Page 12 of Into the Veins
“You brought your parents justice.” Heat spliced through her as Colson set his hand above her knee. “You made sure the man who took your family would never be able to do that to anyone else. That’s more than a piece of paper and a pair of cuffs, Blair.”
She swiped her hand beneath her nose, forcing herself to take even breaths. A humorless laugh escaped up her throat as she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Red splotches peppered the skin around her temples and eyes, nearly the same color as her hair. “I think this is the time I pretend I’m not crying, and we talk about the case.”
“I can do that.” He slipped his hand from her leg, her nerve endings cooling instantly, and turned his phone to face her. “I searched for the video Evyn Garder mentioned of Rachel Faulkner fighting with someone outside of a restaurant a few nights ago. I found it under hashtag-girl-fights.”
She took the phone from him, swiping her fingers under her eyes one more time, and hit play. The video had obviously been recorded on a cell phone, shaky and distanced from the epicenter of the commotion. Blair leaned across the center console to give Colson a view of the screen, her arm pressed against his. Two women, one of them she easily identified as their victim, were in the middle of a heated argument. Just as Evyn Garder had described. “I can’t see the other woman’s face. Whoever recorded the video was standing too far away.”
Colson tapped the screen and two bubbles appeared on each side of the frame. “Lucky for us, that’s why tagging exists, but that’s not the only recent video I found of our victim.” He backed out of the screen and double-tapped a darker image with a play button superimposed in the middle. “This just posted within the past two hours.”
He hit play.
Rachel Faulkner stared directly into the camera, tear tracks streaked down her face. Her mascara had run, so stark against her fair skin. Blood coated her bottom lip, and she was dressed in the same clothing they’d discovered her in yesterday morning. The background was too dark to tell where the video had been recorded, but it was obvious someone else held the camera. Their killer? “My name is Rachel Faulkner, and I’ve been lying to my followers. I charged upwards of fifteen hundred dollars a ticket for my marriage conference. I’ve been teaching my fans and followers how to better their relationships, but the truth is, my husband and I are on our way to divorce. I’m a fraud, and I’m sorry.” A sob broke past the victim’s control as she raised her gaze to the cameraman. “Please. I did what you asked. Just let me—”
The video cut short.
CHAPTER TEN
“I have an APB issued to locate the woman tagged in the video, Cardin Townsend.” Blair closed the door behind her, the blinds shaking slightly as she stepped into the conference room. Flipping open her notebook, she studied whatever notes she’d taken. “I just got off the phone with her employer. According to them, she hasn’t been to work at all today. No call. No scheduled vacation. They’d tried her cell phone. Every call is going to voicemail, and the deputies I sent to her home reported no answer at the door either. I’m having them check with friends and family as we speak. But get this. I pulled her vehicle registration from the DMV. She drives a dark SUV similar to the make and model the victim’s surveillance system caught the night Rachel disappeared.”
“It’s possible Cardin Townsend is the one who picked up our victim that night and held her hostage to make that video.” Colson scrolled his middle and ring finger along the laptop’s track pad and studied the social media influencer’s latest activity. A soft halo of light highlighted the woman’s blonde hair, streaked pink in her profile photo. The shape of the woman’s delicate jaw was consumed by a brilliant white smile and plump cheekbones. Townsend’s elvish features and suggestive poses in her photos had garnered her over thirty-eight thousand followers. Nowhere near Rachel Faulkner’s, but from a cursory glance through her friends, Colson discovered a slight overlap.
Songwriter. Big Jesus Fan. Model booking link. Cardin Townsend seemed to do it all. The first few lines of the bio section didn’t illuminate much else, but the highlights section might give them a lead. Colson spun the laptop around to give Blair a view of the screen as she took a seat a few chairs down the conference table. “If she’s our killer, it stands to reason she got the hell out of Dodge before we started closing in. Turns out, Cardin Townsend is a big outdoors type. Hiking, camping, rock climbing, prepping.” He hit the third highlight in, showcasing the influencer’s collection of posts and stories. “From the looks of it, she liked to be one with nature first thing in the morning, but this post is the one I wanted you to see.”
He pressed pause on the timed screenshot. A photo showing Cardin Townsend’s back to the camera as she stared out over the majestic views Washington State had to offer took over the screen. A backpack dug into the slim set of her shoulders and emphasized the muscles down her spine. But it wasn’t their latest suspect’s physical form that’d caught his attention.
“That’s the same trail where Rachel Faulkner’s remains were found. The photo was taken higher up the mountain, but I’d recognize it anywhere.” Blair pulled the laptop across the gleaming surface of the station’s conference table. “That can’t be a coincidence.”
“The video of Townsend and our vic arguing posted two nights before Rachel left her home and never came back. Any avid hiker and rock climber studies their routes before hitting the trails.” He pointed to the laptop. “They’d know to avoid certain areas, where to take shelter in case of a surprise thunderstorm or snowstorm, how to react to an animal attack, and any other kind of hazard they might face out there in the wilderness.”
“And the best place to dispose of a body,” Blair said.
His thought exactly.
“There hasn’t been any activity on Cardin Townsends’s profile in the past twenty-four hours, but I was able to pull the data from the last photo she uploaded to her profile.” Shoving his heels into the floor, Colson rounded the end of the table and came around to the sheriff’s right side. Instant heat lightninged through him as he reached over her arm to pan to the next screen. Clearing his throat, he pulled up the photo in question showing Cardin Townsend raising her wine glass from across a pristinely set table and a plate full of untouched Italian. “This was taken at an Italian restaurant called Sharde downtown the same night she was seen arguing with Rachel Faulkner. I thought I could use the date and the location to narrow down a police report, but it turns out while the police responded, no charges were filed. The Seattle PD logs show the argument occurred outside the restaurant at 10:48pm. I called the manager, but that was the one night he wasn’t working. He heard about the fight between two customers from the waitress who called the police when she couldn’t get them to lower their voices.”
“Italian food.” Blair tugged her phone from her jacket and swiped across the screen. In seconds, she pulled a report from her email and skimmed down the glass. “Dr. Moss noted the victim’s stomach contents in the autopsy report. Pasta, red wine, goat, wagyu beef, and sage.”
Colson pulled up the restaurant’s menu, and a hit of Blair’s perfume teased his senses. “Bingo. Sharde’s gnocchi consists of abruzzese style ragu of goat and wagyu beef, and crispy sage.”
“Okay, so we have a time SPD was dispatched and proof Rachel and Cardin were at the restaurant together two nights before the victim disappeared. Even if she was the last person to see our victim alive, it’s not enough to request a warrant to search Cardin Townsend’s home and vehicle, but it’s enough to bring her in for questioning.” Blair leaned back in her seat, entirely cerebral as the wheels visibly spun. “We need to talk to that waitress. Maybe she overheard the argument.”
“Already done.” Colson dragged his phone from his pocket and set the notes he’d taken in front of her. “I sent her photos of the victim and Cardin Townsend, and she confirmed they were the women who were arguing in the restaurant that night. I asked her if she’d heard what the argument was about. She only heard a few words since she was trying to stay on top of her tables, but overall, the woman she identified as Cardin Townsend was visibly upset and asking the second woman,”—he checked his notepad—“‘Who did you tell?’”
“That could mean any number of things.” Surprise flittered across her expression as Blair picked up the phone and read through his notes. “The waitress got the license plate of the SUV one of the women drove off in in case police came back to question her later.”
“She messaged me right before you came in.” Pulling a sticky note from his coat, Colson offered it between his index and middle fingers. He pulled it back as she reached to take the note from him, irritation clear in the set of her mouth, and a small part of him relished in the slight break of that legendary control. Pools of darkness had set up residence under her eyes. She hadn’t slept well the night before. Whether from her constant internalization of her cases or from the fact she’d let him stay the night, he didn’t know, but there was a warning at the edges of her lips that said she’d just as soon bury him alive than let him back into her house. And damn if that wasn’t one of the sexiest things he’d seen.
Blair plucked the note from his grip and studied the configuration of numbers and letters. “They’re a match for the vehicle registered to Cardin Townsend. Good work. We can tie both women to the incident at the restaurant two nights before Rachel Faulkner disappeared.”
“Now all we have to do is locate her and see if she’s the one who forced Rachel Faulkner to admit her secrets to the world.” Lightning flashed. Thunder shook the windows of the large office as pits of rain battered against the windows. Temperatures were already starting to drop, and a bone deep cold set up in Colson’s body as he considered the night ahead of him. He’d survived below zero temperatures with the heavy quilts and his sleeping bag before, but his mind kept returning to the warmth of Blair’s house. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to focus on the metadata of the next photo from Cardin Townsend’s profile. Blair had made it clear her invitation last night was a one-time deal. End of story. “Anything from CCS?”
“The lab finished going through Rachel Faulkner’s emails. Nothing in her sent or deleted folders or the communication between her and her employees revealed any animosity between her and anyone else. Everyone we’ve interviewed at her office and from the staff maintaining the property says the same thing. Rachel was an excellent boss. She made the workplace fun with dance parties, encouraged high levels of self-care by ordering in salads for the whole staff, and personally checked in with every employee in their morning meetings to ensure they weren’t overwhelmed. By all accounts, her friends and family couldn’t think of a single reason why someone would want to hurt her.”
“Except for the fact her husband, Braydon Caddel, was filing for divorce. Evyn Garder sent her threatening messages because the vic wouldn’t refund her conference registration fee, and she was publicly seen arguing with Cardin Townsend. That’s quite the fan club,” he said. “What about Evyn Garder’s watch?”
Blair tossed her pen onto the glossy surface of the conference table and rubbed at her eyebrows. “She was telling the truth. Dr. Moss narrowed down the window of when the body had to have been dumped to reach that level of rigor mortis outdoors to between 3:00am and 5:00am. Evyn’s GPS backlog puts at her home until one hour before she discovers the body and calls police. Her alibi checks out.”
“There’s something we’re missing. Something we’re not seeing yet.” The first forty-eight hours were critical in any homicide investigation, but all they’d managed to uncover was a list of theories and dead ends. He studied the victim’s photo centered on the board they’d constructed. Black marker sprouted off in three separate directions, each leading to one of their current suspects, with notes beneath the photos of Braydon Caddel, Evyn Garder, and Cardin Townsend. Another grouping of photos detailed the location where Rachel’s body had been disposed. Rattlesnake Mountain Trail. As much as he wanted to believe the killer had dumped the remains there out of a sense of familiarity, his instincts said he was wrong. Killers went out of their way to hide what they’d done out of survival. They did anything they could to keep from getting caught and to prevent the murder being tied to them. Why leave Rachel Faulkner in that area? Why leave her on that trail?